"Due South Seekrit Santa" they're calling it

[sage]

"Bob, what on earth are you doing?" Caroline shuffled into the kitchen corner of their cabin, wiping sleep out of her eyes. She was bundled up in about five thick layers of flannel and fur, and her breath was gusting white in the low light of the kerosene lamp. "Do you know it's nearly three in the morning?"

"I'm writing, dear."

"Oh, is that what the pen is for?"

He snorted and went back to his page before he forgot what he meant to write. "Listen to you," he said after a few seconds of quick jotting. "You've never had anything bad to say about my letters."

There was a metallic clang and then the sound of her raking ash out of the wood stove. "No, only Canada Post keeping them all to themselves until they bother to sled them out here."

"Well, there is that," Bob agreed, as she stirred up the coals and added more fuel. "And thank you. It is a bit nippy, isn't it? Down to fifty below, do you think?"

With a dry smile, she bent to kiss his cheek. "Well, enjoy your journal. I'm going back to sleep."

"Oh, it isn't that," he said as she took a last poke at the stove. "I'm writing a story. There's a holiday exchange at the outpost this year—'Due South Seekrit Santa' they're calling it, Lord only knows why—and I drew Buck's name out of the hat."

She didn't say anything for a moment, and then she folded her arms over her chest. "Do I get to see it?"

Bob pursed his lips, suddenly nervous. "Well, it's a little bit—ah."

"Ah?" Her tone was querulous, her eyebrow matching, and the light in her eyes said, "I've caught you again, haven't I?"

Bob swallowed and couldn't suppress a sidelong glance toward the door. "Fine. You might say it's a little racy, all right?"

Caroline smiled her slow Cheshire cat smile, circled the table, and kissed him again. "You're going to share," she told him.

"Oh yes," he agreed. Her eyes told him exactly what she meant, and he was no fool. "Never any doubt."

Her fingertips trailed along his cheek. "Good," she said, and then she was walking away, back to bed, leaving Bob to find a stopping point as he might.

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